seven and eighteen

So, I crashed into a wall at about an hour ago.  Not literally; don't fret.  Just one of those walls that jump out at you while you're shuffling along at half-a-jog, keeping up the energy, keeping up the positives, keeping up the motivation.  That wall says, "Maybe not," and all of a sudden you're sitting in mud at the base, with brick-burn on your face, looking up.

Maybe that metaphor was too extended.

My brain has reached capacity.  I can't find the right music.  Countdowns.  Words (listen to how the keys click).  A general state of shaking, deep breaths, long blinks.

Joel said today, "You're certainly not alone in your uncertainty."  There is a hopefulness in that, a solidarity, an essence of community.  My brain is muddled with abstractions, with trying to speak what I feel and trying to feel what's right.

Just sit for a minute, resting your head against the wall, humming to yourself, gathering the nerve (strength?  determination? sheer will power?) to stand up and clamber over to the other side.